


A World Left forgotten

by AlchemysHomunculi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlchemysHomunculi/pseuds/AlchemysHomunculi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the back of Prussia's mind he had believed he would be one of the first to go, but fate gave him a second chance and sometimes, second chances can be become unwanted; especially when you're one of the few left of a world that's now only ruins in a new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

So this is my second Hetalia fanfiction that I've had at the back of my mind for a while.

Read and Review

Everything seemed to be in a stand-still, no birds were there to chirp or even squawk for that matter; if there had been water even the smallest of ponds would have stood out from the copper-colored dirt that looked like an endless desert. It should have been a lifeless barren region, but the motionless body of a former nation broke the misconception. The scene was like a painting, Prussia, a unique speck of white-clarity among the copper-grounds; a symbol without any one true interpretation, but always thought-provoking.

The sudden sound of a choking gasp, finally started time up again once more. A cloud of dust was kicked-up around the nation as he began to sit up; various cracks emanating from his joints with each gradual movement.

His disused red-eyes dilated upon opening to the sun's rays. For a few seconds his mind was as blank as the scenery around him, but like a breaking damn questions began to flood his mind; all of them were different, although, all of their origins could be traced to a single thought.

He reached down to dust off any dirt that might be on his clothes but his hand grazed his dirt-encrusted stomach rather than his shirt, looking down he noticed that half of shirt wasn't even there anymore, and further inspection showed it wasn't the only part of it missing.

His skin that was not covered by what he had once recognized as his clothing was no different in color from the ground, if he had a way of looking at himself at this moment the person he saw would be unrecognizable. 'Is this a joke...or did I get drunk and end up here? It's still better than the time I woke up in a Mickey Mouse costume in that never ending maze of trees.' He stopped his line of thought and rubbed at his face, trying to remember where that forest was. 'It was that . . . place . . . above America I think, Antarctica maybe.'

He turned three hundred and sixty degrees, his gaze wandered all over the strange land. 'Looks like the Australian-outback, but without those dead looking plants.'

The slow thump of his heart and brief inhale of brackish air were like cell phone vibrations wrapped in cotton and placed six feet underground compared to the world, his world. 'Those un-awesome jerks put me here, didn't they?' He tried to run a hand through his hair but the moment his fingers began to move they became halted by an army of tangles.

Little attention was put into pulling his hand away; for each theory or question had all died down. Except for one. 'But . . . why am I here?'

. . .

Germany sighed in bliss as he leaned back into the couch with a book in his hand. He honestly couldn't remember the last time his boss let him go home early, for a very long time he has had to either stay longer then he should or when he did get off on time there was always some errand that needed to be done.

He glanced from the prologue to the clock hanging on his living room wall. It was five o clock and he had officially nothing left to do, before turning the page he reached for his beer bottle on the coffee table in front of him.

"Germany what's that-a sound?" His bottle slipped out of his hand and cracked on the floor, the amber liquid pooling at his feet as the Italian walked into the room; oven mitts covered his hands and he carried a large pot with him.

"When did you get here!?" The blond yelled as he jumped up from his couch and pointed towards Italy frantically; remembering that he precisely locked all of his doors and windows and even turned on the security system.

Italy's face dropped into a somewhat disappointed frown, oblivious to the problem of making a surprise visit at his friend's house. "I don't know, I called your-a boss looking for you and he said you were-a home."

"But how did you get in here?!" There had been no indications of Italy breaking in and hoped that he didn't short circuit the system by accidentally dumping pasta sauce on it again.

Italy bent down to place the pot by his feet before digging into the pocket of his suit pants. Germany's eyes twitched faintly at the sight of the small silver house key, its glimmer taunting him. "Where did you even get that from?!" Italy tilted his head to the right, confused as to why the blond was so upset.

The reason was because Germany knew that there were only three keys and he specifically remembered where he put all of them. One was in his back pocket and two were with Prussia in case he forgot where he put one.

His thoughts came to a halt the moment they went to his brother; a low growl escaping his throat as he bawled up his fists on either side of him. Without thinking, Italy took a step forward, concern shining true on his face. Germany's urge to explode stopped with a gasp when the pot was toppled by Italy's errant foot, a sea of rotini and tomato sauce flooded onto the floor like a tidal wave making the spilled beer tiny in comparison.

Chunks of diced tomatoes and other vegetables splattered onto Germany's shoes and pants; Italy's eyes darted from the floor to Germany's wide open mouth. The Italian gave a choked chuckle as the previous expression made its way back on to Germany's features.

He suddenly extended his arm, pointing towards the door to the right of the room. "Foyer, Broom closet, mop, get it." He ordered through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes for a moment and heard the all too familiar dash of feet retreating from the room.

He stood stiffly among Italy's mess till he opened his eyes and remembered why Italy had chosen to walk into the room.

"What could he of heard other than me breathing?" He shut his eyes tightly again and focused on the background, at first her heard nothing but the sound of Italy scrambling through the crowded closet till a beat began to vibrate into his ears.

"Sounds like," He grumbled upon realizing what it was, "Disco Pogo." He finished bitterly.

. . .

Germany darted down the dark stairway to the barely lit basement, stopping suddenly before walking off the first step. The concrete-floor before him was littered with various bits of trash, a lot of them being empty beer bottles and Styrofoam boxes for leftovers.

For any other nation they would have thought it was always like this, however the blond knew better especially since he had been down here yesterday morning and everything seemed to have been fairly clean. His eyes traveled from the floor to the couch in the middle of the room and from there, to an old TV in front of the couch; which, for some reason was on a Spanish soap opera. The source of the noise he heard up stairs, though, was playing from the speakers of a computer that was currently in the only other room in the basement-an unoccupied bedroom.

He navigated his way next to the couch and half-glared at the sight before him. He expected Prussia to be sprawled out with some of his limbs hanging off the sides with an idiotic smile plastered onto his face but was surprised to see that his back was facing the TV and that his body was in a semi-fetal position, one of the empty bottles clutched to his chest.

Prussia's chin was pressed up against his neck while his face was covered by a pillow hiding his face from Germany. He groaned softly as Germany began to shake him, thinking that he was asleep. "Bruder wake up, I need to talk to you." Prussia's arm reached out and swatted at the air as a way of telling him to go away.

"Go away West." His words gruff, hinting to Germany that he was likely hung-over.

"Nein, not in until you tell me what the hell happened here and why you gave Italy a house key."

He didn't respond at first, only when Germany started to shake him again. "Ugh, fine." The blond's hands went back to his sides as Prussia slowly started to sit up but refused to face him. "You see." His eyes darted around the room. "Austria broke in here last night and trashed the place completely I of course beat him senseless but he took one of my keys as he escaped on the back of Hungary's horse and gave it to Italy so he could annoy you." Germany rubbed at the top of his forehead not amused by the situation in the least. "We're going to go beat him up, right?" Prussia demanded, looking to his brother for the first time.

He grunted. The pasta covered floor, the fearful Italian, and the lying ex-nation all meshed together to form one perfect headache. "I kno-"

"Come on West now is the perfect time to get revenge on the pansy for ruining your day." He started to poke at Germany's chest, eyes shifting away once again.

Germany growled. "We are not going to, he's not the one who spilled pasta all over mein floor."

"Come on, just a little ass kicking that's all I ask."

Everything appeared to jump at the force of Germany's foot as it stomped into the floor; cracks forming beneath his boot. "Nein! We are not going to beat Austria, possibly Italy, but not Austria. Right now all I want to know is the truth and I'm not going until I hear it!"

"If you don't know the truth then how do you know that what I'm saying is the truth?"

"Because it is ridiculous and obviously a lie."

Prussia was fell silent, much to Germany's annoyance Prussia sat back down into the position he was in before. For a second, Germany thought to slap him, but something from the corner of the room caught his eye. Germany could have sworn the empty trashcan in the corner had been full yesterday-and situated across the room.

The rim of it had a crack running from the top to the base and was lying on its side. "Did you-" He paused. "Kick it across the room?" It would explain why the majority of the trash seemed to be in a line. Fake snores sounded from Prussia. "Damn it tell me what happened!" Germany snapped.

In a second Prussia jumped up from his spot and turning to face his brother. "Why should I, it's not like what goes on in my personal life matters anymore. Personal drama is weak in comparison to the shit that comes with nation problems."

"What are you trying to say?" Germany's expression fell upon seeing his brother's face, it looked as if a purple bruising by his right eye was just barely starting to go away.

Crossing his arms, Prussia grumbled under his breath. "Just go back up stairs and play with your little friend. Maybe if you're lucky he'll wear that pretty green dress while he cleans for you."

"What green dress, you're not making any sense!" Germany sighed in exasperation.

Prussia smirked. "Of course it makes no sense to you; you're not awesome enough to get what I'm saying."

"Now you're just acting like a child."

"I'm older than you so you don't have a right to call me a child!" Prussia snarled

"This is my house und I can say what I want to if anyone should be restricted it should be you!" The blond roared back.

Prussia's grin only strengthened as Germany's patience began to wear down. "You mad?" He taunted.

"I'm always mad at you."

"Then why don't you slap me, huh if you hate me that much?"

"What?"

Prussia stepped closer to him. "Go on slap me, it's not like anyone will suffer from it. I don't have people, so it's not like anyone but me will be on your conscious."

"My people are your people a-"

"Although I don't think it would matter much if I did have people, innocent lives suffering never seemed to bother you before," Prussia sneered.

The force of slap reverberated off the walls like metal as Prussia fell backwards into the couch, he watched Germany with wide eyes.

"Fine don't tell me what's wrong." The younger scowled, giving up and walking away. "It's not like I care!" He called back, ascending the stairs.

He took long irritated strides back to living room; Italy was there by the time he got to the top. To his relief, the pasta mess was already gone and Italy was now in the process of sweeping the broken glass into the dust-pan he held. Hearing him walk up behind him, he turned around; facing Germany. "I cleaned it up for ya." He motioned to the floor and the pot that was now on top of the coffee table.

Germany inspected his work. "Wow, I knew you were a fast runner but I didn't think you were a fast cleaner."

Italy's eyes glanced down towards the spotless wood floor. "I've had-a lot of practice." Germany was quiet, too awed by Italy's trance like state to say anything. "Oh I forgot, did you-a find out what was making that-a sound?" Italy inquired, leaving his trance.

Germany blinked, a bit taken back by the sudden change, but easily composed himself once more. Sending a furtive look to the stairs, remembering the incident with his brother. "It's just Prussia being a big winy cry baby about something," he muttered before recalling the key. "Which reminds me, why did he give you a key?"

"Huh? Oh um I remember him saying that he wanted me to-a come over more-a often so you wouldn't be-a so lonely. Then he mumbled something about distraction."

Germany despite his better judgment decided against asking Prussia further, if he wanted his help than he would ask. "Oh who cares, as long as you're here you can make dinner."

Italy nodded. "Yay! would you-a like to help?" He implored.

Germany shook his head. "You go ahead without me." He watched as the Italian ran out of the room and into the kitchen with glee in each step.

Prussia was never the emotional type if anything he did a pretty good job at hiding things; even with his annoying personality, there were occasions in which a glimmer of something would show up in his face, yet he never sulked very long about it; if anything, he disdained such behavior if the way he went about calling Austria a little girl for sulking was anything to go by.

Germany growled. 'So what's wrong with him now?' He wondered.

Back down stairs, the last of Prussia's memory of before began to fade away as he finally started to fall asleep with the TV and the music acting as a lullaby. He felt numb, a taint of bitterness on his tongue. He could no longer recall why his last thoughts were of her or why he drifted in to peaceful sleep after all that had happened.

. . .

The dirt around rose up like a cloud; Prussia's viciously narrow stare seemed all the more intimidating by the jagged appearance of his body, but just as suddenly as his features had taken up the look, it relaxed into something less mean and more pouty.

"Should have known that would be the breaking point for West." The dryness of his mouth easily being passed off as due to breathing in the dessert's air and not for what it truly was. "Of course Italy joined him in doing this and Austria must have jumped at the offer to get rid of me here too."

But, he had a reason for the way he acted towards his brother, a reason that he believed led him here. His jaw twanged with pain as he clenched his teeth and his fingernails dug harshly into his palms; there was a point in old anger and regret where hitting things just didn't work anymore. "And.." It came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

He shook his head causing dirt to flutter around his face and he let his 'manliness' come back to him. "And after that . . . I would be surprised if Hungary refused to help as well." The specific memory hit him hard, yet not hard enough to leave him utterly destroyed. The feeling in his stomach was not an uncommon one, but a strong example for why he drinks.

"Take a deep breath." He whispered while easing up his hands and jaw. "And let it all go." He complied with himself, letting the old problem disappear to join the other ones in the back of his mind and let the new one become his new focal point.

With no better idea in mind he started to walk, knowing that there had to be an end to this somewhere. All the while unaware that some things can't be forgotten.

. . .

A tiny puff of dust rose up from the ground at the impact of a rock, thrown on the ground by an olive-skinned man. His Dark brown eyes stared at it for only a moment before moving his gaze towards the other rock that was almost invisible from the distant he was from.

His blistered fingers smoothed down his darkly-colored hair and stopped once he felt the straight part of his hair start to curl by the base of his neck and stopped completely half-way to his shoulders; noting the auburn tint was much more visible in the sun's rays.

One hand tried to shield his eyes as he gaze out at the empty expanses; the weightlessness of the worn sac slung carelessly over his shoulder helped decide for him if it was time to turn back.

Even if he didn't turn back, whatever direction he took wouldn't change a thing, there was no way he would find an end to it with the amount of markers he had left. The man shrugged his shoulders, not really caring that there wasn't anything more out here. He bitterly remembered that this was a pointless action, but they insisted...

Why he agreed in the first place had more to do with the fact that he felt better out here than back there; it was their loss anyways, he figured. Slowly he turned back, getting ready to take as much time as possible to follow the trail. A fleeting image had him stop in mid-turn, other than the prints behind him, everything else seemed untouched which made the markings in the dirt even more noticeable to him.

It wasn't in until he was a few feet away from it that he could he clearly tell what it was, from the size and shape he made the assumption that it was feet walking off towards the West. He knew that they were newly formed or they wouldn't even be there to begin with.

'But who would be dumb enough to go that way.' He thought, remembering that the sea was in the opposite direction.

'Maybe they didn't need to go that way . . . maybe they all already have enough food and water to survive without stopping.' His right hand pulled back from the where he had rested it on his hip; suddenly he felt a stinging pain from the fresh red gash at the top of his index finger. He hadn't even realized that his hand had slipped off the cloth covering of his knife.

His other hand pulled out the knife and brought it up to his face. 'They wouldn't want me to.' He thought.

A grimace soon made its way onto his face, 'They also want food too...'

The next thing he knew was that he also was following the tracks step by step made by a person he had never known and never seen which made it all the more reason for him make up his mind. 'Food is food, doesn't matter where it comes from or where you get it and they should be grateful to have it.'


	2. Chapter 1

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the story and hope that it continues to get good.

Special thanks to Summer Leigh wind for favorting, reviewing, and Beta-ing.

. . .

'Why should I even try going back to West, if he didn't want me there that badly?' Suppressed troubles built up in Prussia with every limping step. A zephyr from the west kicked dust up with it, sprinkling another layer of grime onto his already sand-coated skin.

He lifted his left forearm up and tried to defend his clamped-shut eyes from the irritation but he ended up being just as blind as he would have been if he hadn't lifted his arm. The uncomfortable feeling of a being a dried out like sponge only added to his bitterness. 'It's not like I need them or anything, I can survive perfectly well on my own with just mein awesomeness and . . . and . . . that's reason enough, I will live and they will cry from how great I am and West can come crawling back to his big bruder and beg me to save his ass from total unawesomeness.' He thought, delight kindling in his heart.

His chapped, copper-coated lips turned up to form a Grinch like grin. 'Then Italy will be making me food and Austria will spontaneously combust and-.' Wonderful thoughts on the "future" surged through his mind like electricity, sparking to life a plethora of good-cheer. 'Yeah, I can get through this. Just need to find a way to get away from all this damn dust!'

His mouth parted slightly by accident, but in those few seconds, dirt flew into his mouth causing him to have a coughing-fit. What made it all the worse was that there was little moisture left in his mouth making it difficult so he couldn't swallow it down or spit it out and his coughing only let more dust in the moment he got some out of his mouth. His hand came to his mouth, suppressing his throats reflex as he fell to his knees, the harsh impact of him hitting the ground almost felt like he had fallen off a bike and onto concrete.

Overwhelmed by the dusty wind, Prussia turned away from the direction of the blowing dirt; with a burst of newly found energy, he sprinted off back the way he came.

. . .

The olive skin man sighed, looking down at the ground before him. Earlier, he had dumped out the last of the rocks in his make shift-sack and tore a strip of fabric from the bag; that piece was now covering his mouth, acting as a somewhat effective barrier from the sand. For the most part, he kept his head down and only looked up occasionally. Unfortunately, the wind had made the tracks more and more unrecognizable. 'If I don't turn back, I'm might not find my way back again.'

He glanced up quickly to scan the landscape in front of him; he had planned to turn back and forget all about the soon to be dead man's tracks in the sand, but instead he stood still his eyes staring at his feet once more. The smallest of manic smiles made its way onto his lips. He griped his knife tighter with each step he took, coming closer and closer...

Prussia ran with the wind, the dirt mingling with his tangled-locks as it flew behind him, he hadn't spent much time focusing on his hair but guessed that it too, looked similar in color to the ground.

He gritted his teeth in frustration; his lungs had started to burn from the exertion he was putting his body through, but he continued on at the same pace. His determination numbing the pain. He believed he could survive and get away if he only knew where he was.

His pace had begun to slow down, yet the wind only picked-up in speed and whipped at his exposed back. 'Where am I even going and how do I know that I'm going in the right direction? I could be running straight into miles and miles of dirt and wouldn't even know till I walked out of it days later and by then, West would of exploded from his guilt of leaving me out here and that would suck.'

Up to this point, Prussia had the intention of catching his breath and thinking over a short and simple list of options, but all reason left him at the sight of a shape what appeared to be a person in the distance. At that moment, it was like finding gold in a barren world...That was all the push he needed before he darted off, hopeful and curious. Like an unsuspecting lamb towards the slaughter house.

Both of their hearts thumped faster and faster as they became more defined in appearance, neither of them knew the other's reasoning for charging towards a complete stranger.

In Prussia's case, he was about to learn the true meaning of stranger danger.

The knife in the man's hand was slowly slipped back to its original place in his waist-band and he casually jerked his shirt farther down to cover the majority of it from the unsuspecting man's eyes. The pounding in his heart became unbearable as it hit his rib-cage like a stone being thrown."

Unlike the man's heart Prussia's only slowed, his legs following soon too. The man could only copy the weakening pace. Tension from the planned murder mixed with the fear that Prussia had seen his knife made him feel like an impending storm was on the horizon.

Prussia, less than ten yards away from him, collapsed to the ground on his swollen knees. To the man, Prussia's stance reminded him of a penitent man as well as one close to death by the hands of another, both of were stances he was intimately familiar with.

He could have charged at him like so many times before and end it, but his instincts told him to walk, not run to this man. When covering the short distance between them, not once did his hand go back to the tempting blade resting heavily against him. Now, he stood looking over this man...or whatever it was.

He had expected to find that the trail would lead to someone with a bag of supplies or something that could hold significant value at least, however it seemed the only valuable thing this person could claim would be the life they were now clinging to like a child would to a doll.

"How are you still alive?" The almost unrecognizable Italian accent that came through in the man's hiss made everything in the world feel like it came to a stop for fallen man.

Prussia up until then had been staring down at the ground, his mind slipping in and out of reality. Something hadn't felt right, since he first saw this other man in the dirt. Lifting his head to gaze at the at the other, the man stumbled back at the sight of him. The olive-skinned man had never seen red eyes before, the closest being the occasional child he came across who had one or two pink-eyes due to illness. Things rapidly began to click in his mind then, his clothes, his eyes, and the fact that he was wandering alone out here made it clear that that this person was sick.

The man's hand started to creep back to his knife, mercy killing sounding better than selfishly killing someone for food they didn't have. It was the perfect alibi . . . well if anyone ever found out. "I'm too awesome to die," His hand froze on the hilt of his blade at the sound of Prussia's hoarse whisper.

"Awesome . . . what the heck are you talking about?" He demanded.

"I'm too awesome to die, that's what."

The man narrowed his eyes at Prussia. "What's awesome even mean!?" With a harsh yank, he pulled Prussia by his neck up, inspecting the other's blank features.

"Awesome means..." he paused, considering his choice of words. "Awesome. I am the definition of it."

Prussia only heard the man snarl before toppling back at the force of a push from the other. The only thought that came to him in subsequent events was; 'I'm going kick the absolute shit outta this kid.'

The man pulled the knife out in a swift motion, turning the blade towards Prussia's chest. 'Mercy killing, that's all it is. Maybe this man will thank me when he is among the angels and our heavenly father.'

"Aldo!?" A voice rang out in the distance, Prussia made a grab for the knife as it fell to the ground by his feet.

Prussia's red eyes peered out in the distance were a real glimmer of hope now made its way towards the both of them


	3. Chapter three

. . . 

Prussia's weary eyes gazed down towards the glimmering knife he now held softly in his rough hands, an opportunity arising. The man in front of him had turned away, unintentionally letting his guard down to what he believed to be a harmless and useless dying man. A part of his mind tugged at him, enticed him to plunge the tool deep into the man's back and let him bleed out. However, another part of him restrained the feeling and tried desperately to continue to keep it at bay.

The man, Aldo watched the figure approach them, irritation evident in his callous stare. The outline of a woman with ivory skin and amber hair became more and more visible to the point of her being just as solid as the man upon stopping beside him; her stance and expression challenging him to make another move.

"What reason did you have for following me out here?" The man kept his tone low, though, he did nothing to hide his frustration.

The ash brown cloth she pressed into her face hid much of her expression from him, but Aldo was not oblivious to what she presumably felt, for a moment everything was silent. "I had to tell you something." Her voice although just as soft as his also gave off a commanding edge, one which the man detected just as easily as the Prussian behind him who also made note of her rough British accent.

He grunted, rotating slightly as if ready turn around completely and finish his previous actions. "Anything you had to say could have waited until I got back. No one, even you, should ever follow me out here." He paused. "You'd get lost," he said with malice rather than concern.

Her spring green eyes shifted from staring directly into the man's dark brown ones to Prussia's, gasping slightly at the color. "This man . . . who is he?" Aldo's blistered hand shot out and griped the woman's arm, stopping her from bending down to Prussia's level.

Instantly, she snapped her gaze back to him, letting her eyes battle a silent fight with his. "He's sick." Slowly, his expression matched his calm tone and now looked at her like a doctor with bad news. "It's unlikely he'll get better." The man motioned with his chin towards the ground where the knife had been, still unaware of its absence. The woman, however, was able to see it in Prussia's hand from where she was. "We can, however, help him." The suggestiveness of his tone only registering as sick and twisted in her mind the moment she realized what he was getting at.

With some force, she jerked her hand out of Aldo's grasp and tumbled to her knees, only a few feet from Prussia. It wasn't until then that she noticed that he was giving both of them little to no attention for his eyes were solely focused on the blade, his face oddly trance like. Had he of known what he looked like at that moment, he might have agreed with man when saying he was sick.

"Your right." She looked at him as if looking at one of her children, but with more pity than motherly love. "We can help him, help him by getting him food, clothes, and letting him stay among us." The more she had continued the more Aldo shook his head in disagreement.

"There's nothing at the camp that can help him, just look at him." He took a step towards Prussia, looking down at him as if he was nothing but a shell of a human being. "He's far from any other country's villages and is walking practically naked in all this dust. Judging by his skin and hair I'd say he's been out here for days. If he doesn't die from illness he'll probably die from exhaustion or any number of other things."

The woman only looked to Prussia, not even glancing back to the man as he ranted at her. "Your god would want you to help this man through this even if it's the end for him."

Aldo stiffened as she spoke, but it was not enough to stop him from adjusting his features to their neutral tone. "God would want me to end this man's agonizing journey and let the faults of his past disappear." The built up aggravation slowly evaporated into the air. "Paige . . . let this man no longer suffer bitter loneliness, so he can be among family and friends once more."

"He will be." Paige's head slowly turned back towards his, "But not in heaven."

"Everyone is already weak, it would be unfair to take more food from them and give it to some man who most likely won't make it."

Her eyes narrowed towards him. "They'd deem it unfair if we didn't give him food."

"I think they made it clear who they wanted to represent them already." Even without the cocky look most people would have given her, she was still even more enraged with his statement.

"They don't know what they were getting into!" She began in an inaudible murmur that turned to a bitter mutter that was heard by the man.

"They didn't want death to be in their immediate futures."

A few tense seconds passed as she tried to let her resentment settle, if only for a little while. "They were fine then and they will be fine now."

The knife's blade finally caught the man's attention but rather than move to yank it out of Prussia's hand, he stood motionless. "Look into his eyes." She hesitated, puzzled by his request before complying. "You're looking at him but he's not looking at you, I bet he's not even conscious of the reality around him. The only thing that's going through his mind right now is what to do with that knife. Do you really want a man with intentions like that around everyone else?"

A growl escaped her desperate hold on her negative emotions, all it would take was one more jab, one more word and she would lash out; a move that even to her saw as unwise. "You had the knife on him first; this man only contemplates if he can kill you not what else he could use it for."

He gave a disbelieving gasp. "You don't see the intentions behind those dying eyes, that's not fear; I can see that killing is nothing new to him."

"You know nothing." She hissed.

"Coming from you, it's almost as if a child was saying it."

Silence followed Paige; in her mind she also contemplated something. "Let me bring this man back with us, no one will have to suffer in caring for him-only me."

There was a hesitation on Aldo's part, but he eventually turned away from both of them; leaving without a yes or no reply. A few moments, later the woman refocused her attention back upon Prussia who seemed to have not moved in any form. He finally flinched when she outstretched her hands to cradle his face between them. Slowly, she inched his face up so that his eyes locked onto hers and for a few moments reality seemed to fade back into Prussia's eyes. "You're going to be fine, I can already tell that finding you was only a sign that God has higher plans for you."

. . .

With her arms crossed over her chest, she watched the man in front of her gradually walk away from her. Hungary stood in front of the door of her house, making sure for that Prussia really was leaving.

Biting his lip he suppressed any sound that would compromise his facade to the woman watching him with a somewhat curious stare. Each labored step caused a throbbing sting in his back and head, but Prussia didn't dare stop or show any weakness as he trudged on in his accustom way; telling himself that hurt pride was much worse than any pain from a blow from Hungary or other nation could deliver.

He stopped yards away at the sound of a soft sigh. "You're a terrible faker." He gave no response to Hungary and continued on the moment she too, began walking in his direction.

She didn't see him scrunch his nose at her like a snob only that his pace picked up despite his body's protest. "Well you're a terrible liar . . . and hitter."

He stopped once more at the feeling of her hand coming down heavy on his shoulder. "Is that so? I could always try harder next time or maybe even now if you want?" A look of alarm was evident in his eyes for only a few moments before he recomposed himself.

He placed his hand upon hers; letting it linger there. "I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself while trying to." With little force, his hand pushed hers off of his shoulder and he once again, began to walk away.

She snickered, to her the response was to pathetic for anyone to believe other that himself. "Is that just your way of saying you've had enough?"

He couldn't see her shake her head in amusement at his disbelieving laugh that had a slight nervousness in its sound. "Please a-a little girl like you could never-"He stopped mid-sentence, no decent retorts coming to mind.

"The only thing about you that I can't hurt is your ego." He winced, a surge of pain running up his leg made him stop once again. "There's no one you can blame other than yourself for this and if you don't want any help than that hurts no one but you."

"What are you talking about, I'm perfectly fine so I have no reason to blame anyone which hurts your ego."

"I beat you with my skillet and now you're going to walk away in pain because you don't want to admit that I hurt you."

"Whatever, I don't even care if that's what you think 'cause that's obviously not true." Silence followed him much to his surprise, he had expected her to reply to his lie with the truth that he would immediately shoot down and they would continue their familiar bickering.

Finally, after much deliberation, he turned around only to find that she was already gone.

. . .

In his mind, the memory dispersed the moment he came into consciousness. And although he had woken up, he kept his eyes closed and listened to the voices that now surrounded him.

"Mum, I think Mr. Urich is coming by again," The voice was clearly young, a couple years too early for puberty. Judging by the tone, Prussia believed it to belong to a young girl.

"Go tell him the same thing as before." Even though he was out of sorts when he had first met the woman, he identified it as belonging to the woman from before, Paige. She let out an exasperated sigh, before continuing. "With all of these visits, you'd think it's almost as if he has nothing better to do."

"Love, I'm sure he's just looking out for everyone." This voice was rather masculine and older; Prussia bet it belonged to a man in his forties-or close to it, anyway.

"What could a sick man possibly do to all of us?"

"He could make us all sick or if he's dangerous then he could hurt a good number of us-even if he can't kill us all." There was a pause. "With that said, I think it might be best . . . if we have the kids stay else where for a while."

"Johnathan, there is nothing wrong with him."

"How do we know that? Even if he won't try to hurt us, he's sick and should we really have them around something they could catch?"

"You say that as if there's a good chance he will intentionally try something." The patience in her voice beginning to falter.

"I . . . I don't trust some of the men banished here."

"You trust Aldo though." Even though she mumbled, it both of them were able to hear it.

"Aldo doesn't act the same way that people like Marco Costache do."

There was a thump as if someone was dropping something on the ground. "What's wrong with Marco Costache?"

"He's just . . . strange, I don't like the way he looks at Violet Harris and the other girls."

She chuckled at him. "Violet's a very pretty young lady, almost all the men look at her. How does that make him different from them?"

"There's something different about him and a lot of people can see it."

"Hush, he's a very nice man. He was one of the few that tried convincing people that I should be the leader."

"That bears no indication of him being a trust worthy person."

"Don't worry about Marco, love, I bet this man is just as good as him."

A laugh built up in Prussia's throat, one in which he could not contain for long. "Hungary would beg to differ . . ." He whispered in a hoarse voice, unaware that he had said it aloud.

"I knew he was awake." A third voice rang into Prussia's ears, one which he identified as being Aldo's.

Knowing that they now knew that he was awake, Prussia slowly opened his eyes seeing no reason to keep them closed. The world was blurry for a second but it soon became clear. His eyes darted around the room, well, if you could call it that.

To him, it looked like a decent sized Arab looking tent, it wasn't furnished like a room; having only poor quality blankets covering the ground, a couple of bags in the back filled with unknown items, and four blankets made beds other than the one he was currently sitting up on. It was barely enough space for four, maybe five people to fit in comfortably.

At the entrance of the tent were four people, two of which he recognized quickly. but the remaining pair were a mystery to him. The one sitting next to the women he believed to be called Paige, was rather scrawny and short for a man who looked and sounded his age. From what Prussia could make out in the shadows he had long, dark ash-blonde hair that meshed into the scraggly beard that covered the lower half of his face and what he wore appeared to be made of materials similar to that of the tent's.

The other person he didn't recognize was a child who hovered a few feet behind Aldo as he stood in the tents opening, the young girl had hair of a similar color to Paige's, yet it was longer and kept back from her face with a braided pony-tail. Her dark brown eyes looked at him with a nervous curiosity.

From this view he had a better look at Aldo, he unlike the other three was rather well built in muscle and height. To Prussia Aldo looked barely young, most likely early to mid-thirties.

"Jonathan take Agatha somewhere." The man, Jonathan, complied with Paige and took the little girl behind Aldo out of his sight.

Aldo stepped into the ten further and stood next to Paige. "Your husband and daughter?" Paige blinked at Prussia, a bit taken back at him.

"Husband, what's that? The little girl's my daughter and Jonathan's her father yes, but husband?"

Before he could answer, Aldo stepped in. "I'll explain it to you later. We have more important matters to discuss."

"I can assure you both of two things; the first being that I'm not sick, this is just my natural eye color and the second being that I'm not a murderer, however seeing as you've been hesitant about not killing the awesome me it's not going to matter one bit to you." Aldo narrowed his eyes in annoyance at Prussia's somewhat cocky tone.

"Your right, I'll judge that for myself-"

Paige cut him off. "But before all that we need to ask you some things."

"Make it quick, I have somewhere to be you know."

Aldo snorted. "Of course you do."

Neither of them noticed the irritated look Paige gave him, though, even without seeing her face, Aldo was pretty certain she'd sent them one. "Why were you ou-"

She cut him off again. "What's your name?" She smiled at the low growl Aldo made behind her; she wiped it off before turning around to face him. "Don't you think that it would be better to know his name first before anything?"

Aldo gave no response, but Prussia did. "You want to know who I am." He started to laugh, earning him strange looks from the both of them. "I am the awesome Prussia."

He had expected a number of different reactions...the ones they actually gave him were completely unexpected, Aldo was about to speak up, yet like the other two times he was cut short; not by Page this time, however.

All of them were dumb folded as a young boy, no older than six or seven rushed in and jumped into Paige's lap. "Noah-what are you doing here! Were you listening in on us?"

"I wanted to know who he was."

"I could have told you later."

The boy ignored this. He glanced once towards Prussia, his eyes widened slightly at the strange sight of his eyes while Prussia resisted the urge to roll his own at yet another strange reaction to his red irises. "Mum . . . why's his name the same name as our country's?"


End file.
